


five times lydia saw derek naked and one time she didn't

by astonishman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, tropey as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astonishman/pseuds/astonishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a classic trope-filled 5 times fic. I might never finish this though.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. the woods

**Author's Note:**

> Just a classic trope-filled 5 times fic. I might never finish this though.

If Malia could shift into an actual coyote, then he could shift into an actual wolf, Derek reasoned to himself. He had tried on the first night of the full moon and, while successful, it was the most painful experience of his life (which certainly included its fair share of painful experiences). He didn’t even get to enjoy being a wolf at all because he shifted back in shock and spent the next twenty minutes howling his throat raw from the pain. Scott was waiting outside his loft when Derek returned after having heard the howls; Derek had hoped no-one else heard. Derek lied and told Scott he was having trouble with the full moon because of everything that had gone on and Scott had nodded understandably. He told him not to worry even if he heard the same howls tonight and sent Scott home. 

He was standing out in the woods again on the second night of the full moon. He thought he was ready this time. He was mentally preparing himself when he heard rustling behind him. 

“Derek?” Lydia called out from behind a tree. Derek knew it was her instantly from the smell of her perfume which wafted over towards him. It was sickeningly sweet and tickled his sinuses uncomfortably. 

“Lydia, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to ask you the same question,” she said stepping out from the shadows of the trees and into the moonlight.

Derek silently glared at her waiting for her to explain, but she simply raised her eyebrows as if challenging him to answer first. Derek sighed.

“I’m doing wolf things; you shouldn’t be out here especially on a full moon,” he said eventually.

“You know, I heard you howling last night, and I just came to tell you to shut up so I could get a decent sleep tonight,” she said stepping closer and leaning against the tree; the moonlight behind framing her in a silhouette. Derek wanted to slap himself. Of course Lydia could hear him. She was a banshee. Derek knew better than to let his embarrassment show, so he turned the conversation back to her. 

“You heard a strange howling on a full moon and you thought it was a good idea to investigate the woods alone?” Derek asked.

“I knew it was you, no-one else has such a desperate howl,” she said.

Derek didn’t know Lydia very well, but he did know that she was brutally honest when she needed to be and snarky whenever she had the chance. This was the first time he was on the receiving end of her venom and he didn’t like it. What did she mean by ‘desperate’? He could feel his heart pumping furiously and his blood coursing through him spreading rage throughout his body. All of a sudden, he felt inexplicably on the cusp of violence. He wondered why her words were digging into him; he didn’t care what Lydia thought of him and yet here she was getting under his skin and into his bloodstream. He involuntarily shivered and remembered the full moon above him which was spurring him into his current adrenaline fuelled response.

“Go home, Lydia,” he said finally as he shrugged off the feelings.

“No,” she said simply.

“Excuse me,” he replied. 

“I’m not going to get any sleep with you out here howling the neighbourhood down, so I may as well watch over you while you do whatever ‘wolf things’ you are doing,” she said. Derek felt exhausted from talking to her; the same feelings that surfaced whenever Stiles was unhelpfully contributing to a discussion. 

“I can’t do it if you’re here,” he said hoping that the vagueness would convince her to leave.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked stepping closer again. She was annoyingly persistent, he thought. He realised he wasn’t going to get her to leave at least until he told her what was going on.

“If you’re really that curious, I’m trying to turn into a wolf. An actual wolf,” he said as casually as he could. 

“Like Laura?” she asked. Derek did not expect her to be so aware of him and his life and he had no response at first. The name burnt into the silence between them. Laura was supposed to teach Derek how to shift into a wolf, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Derek had forgotten about it on purpose instead choosing to focus on Malia’s coyote form as his inspiration. It was only when Lydia dropped her name that he remembered. 

“Yes… Like Laura,” he said softly. It had only been a year, but it seemed so much longer. 

“Do you miss her still?” she asked. Derek was hyperaware of her gaze fixated on him. Most people would avert their eyes when asking such an intimate question to give a little breathing space to respond, but Lydia’s scrutiny bore a hole through him. 

“Every day,” he said. As uncomfortable as he felt, Derek could not lie to her, not about his family at least. They didn’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You didn’t do anything,” he responded breaking eye contact purposefully.

“I know, but I’m sorry anyway,” she said reaching out for his hand, but he was too far away, and he didn’t reciprocate by moving closer. 

“Thanks, but you should get going,” he said after the moment had ended, turning away and taking a few steps deeper into the woods and further away from her. 

“You know, this mysterious ‘lone wolf’ thing stopped being interesting six months ago,” she said. 

“Goodbye, Lydia,” he responded pointedly. 

“If you think I’m going to leave just because you tell me to, then you don’t know me at all,” she said.

“Yeah, I don’t know you, and maybe we can get to know each other at a later date and not at this very instant seeing as I need to be alone for this,” he responded.

“Is this like a ‘honouring your family wolf ritual thing’ or something? Is that why you need to be alone?” she asked.

“No…. It’s an ‘I need to take off my clothes so I’m not a wolf running around in underwear’ thing,” he responded with a sigh. 

“Oh…” she said.

“Yeah, so if you wouldn’t mind, some privacy would be nice,” he said.

“Howl if you need me or don’t so maybe I can actually get some sleep,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said. He didn’t mean it to come out so harsh, but he did not have the energy to continue the verbal sparring. He heard her sigh and start walking away. Something ached inside of him at the thought of her being angry at him. 

“Wait,” he said thinking that maybe, after the catastrophe of last night, it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone around, “you can stay. Just don’t look.” She stopped and turned back towards him. He wasn’t shy about being naked in front of her, but she certainly didn’t need to know that. 

“A little modesty from the wolf, don’t worry, I’m not interested anyway,” she said. He could hear the smile she was clearly trying to hide. She covered her eyes with her hands in a flamboyant gesture. 

“Be careful, I might bite,” he said turning away from her to hide his own smile. 

“Very funny,” she said.

“Funny…” he agreed, “It should be okay… but the full moon,” Derek said letting her fill in the blanks.

He shed his clothes quickly and tentatively reached out to the wolf inside him forcing the shift to take place. Lydia couldn’t resist the urge to peek through her fingers. The moonlight danced across his skin creating valleys of shadow that stressed the natural muscles rippling underneath. Her pulse quickened and she felt warmth spread through her body. She closed her eyes when the shifting began, Derek’s yelps made it sound painful and she did not want to see it, and only opened them when the night was silent once more.

She saw the wolf that Derek became – she giggled at how scruffy he still looked. Derek turned towards her, and she felt herself take a sharp intake of breath waiting for him to make a move. He held her gaze for a moment and then rushed off into the woods leaving her standing there alone and thinking about her increasingly problematic attraction to shape-shifting men.


	2. scars

They were fighting a group of hunters when Derek was hurt. The hunters had run off after seeing their large pack arrive which was unfortunately shortly after Derek took some shrapnel to the chest. Alpha Scott had decided they needed to follow the hunters in case anyone else was being hurt. 

Lydia didn’t know why she offered to take Derek home and make sure he was alright. Maybe it was because she didn’t really trust in her abilities and she didn’t want to let the pack down by fucking up; maybe she felt like an outsider without Allison and with Stiles distancing himself from her; maybe it was just the adrenaline surging through her driving her. She didn’t need to know, all she needed to know was that she needed to make sure Derek Hale was okay. 

Derek’s body had been riddled with shards of bullets and, while Scott had removed them (painfully), Derek’s healing abilities were overwhelmed. He tore Derek’s shirt and wrapped the wounds as best he could to stop the bleeding. Scott had said that the wounds should heal soon, but that he probably needed to be watched over for a few hours. To everyone’s surprise, Lydia had offered to take him home while the others followed the hunters’ trail. 

Lydia drove gently, but anxiously, while Derek sat in the passenger seat slipping in and out of consciousness. She looked over at him and bit her lip with concern. She, of course, knew intellectually that his werewolf healing would kick in soon, but seeing his laboured breathing and the blood soaking the tattered remains of the shirt tied around him was nonetheless alarming.

When Lydia pulled up outside Derek’s building and Derek was still almost unconscious, she realised she had fucked up. How was she going to get this man who was nearly or maybe even twice her size into that dodgy elevator and up into his loft? She reached over and placed the back of her hand against his forehead, it was very warm, and that was not doing anything for the anxiety she felt bubbling inside her. Wolves don’t typically get fevers from a bullet wounds – even ones as extensive as these. She thought about calling Scott, but he might not answer. She decided that getting Derek and his bullet hole riddled body out of sight of any passers-by was the main priority. To do that, she needed to get him moving. 

“Derek?” she said while squeezing his hand. She felt him weakly grip her hand in response. 

“Okay, Derek, you’re still awake in there, but you’re drifting in and out, so I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Can you do that for me?” she said, “I need you to be awake, I can’t get you inside by myself, and I need you to help me. Can you open your eyes?” Lydia didn’t know if giving clear vocal directions or providing a running commentary would help him, but she figured it couldn’t hurt. Derek’s eyelids fluttered slightly and his lips moved to form words, but nothing came out. Lydia opened the driver side door and stepped out of the car. After checking there was no-one in the vicinity, she walked to the passenger side and swung the door open violently. 

“Derek,” she said more forcefully, “Get out of this car right now. Don’t make me tell you twice.” She had hoped that the appearance of anger might spur him into motion – perhaps she could remind him of his mother which, Lydia had deduced, was a sure-fire way to make sure that men stepped into line.

Derek groaned and tried to stand up; Lydia grabbed his arm and draped it around her.

“I’ve got you,” she said, “it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He stepped out of the car precariously and Lydia tried to take as much of his weight as she could to help. She wrapped her arm around his waist and guided him to the entrance of the building.   
“Lydia…” he said hoarsely. 

“It’s okay,” she repeated, “Don’t talk.”

She struggled while holding him up the rest of the way to the elevator, selected his loft, and pushed him up against the wall so that she didn’t have to support his weight.

“… If you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask …” he said.

“Derek, I know you’re probably delirious from blood loss right now, but shut the fuck up or I will let you fall to the floor of this elevator and leave you here,” she said. He grimaced as she shifted his body around to glare at him.   
“You’re… pushing… into my wounds,” he said.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just didn’t think this through, and I don’t know what to do, I need to get you upstairs,” she said quickly feeling panic rising inside her at the thought that she was hurting him and possibly making the wounds worse. She appreciated his careful choice of words earlier to spare her feelings, but she knew this was very painful for him.

“It’s okay… I got you,” he said repeating her words back at her and trying to stand unsupported by her.

“Thanks, you’re being very helpful,” she said.

“I might be able to walk now,” he offered.

“No, shut up, I’m not going to let you fall and hurt yourself more, we’ll move you together,” she said. The elevator dinged and Lydia wrapped her arm around him again, he leaned on her, and pushed off the wall. They moved together, awkwardly at first, then more confidently, into his loft. She lay him down on his own bed after throwing the carefully made sheets away. Once down, he relaxed into the bed and closed his eyes. 

“I’m going to get you some water,” she said and he made a noise which Lydia hoped was signifying acknowledgement or agreement. She went into the kitchen and leant against the counter letting the adrenaline wash out of her. Her hands were shaking, but she ignored them and collected a glass of water and then brought it back to him.

“Drink,” she said bringing the glass up to his lips and tilting his neck up. His mouth opened slowly and a few sips went in and he swallowed hard. Some rogue water trickled down his cheek and Lydia brushed it away with her thumb.   
“Thanks…” he choked out, “I really should be healing by now…”

“Let me look,” she said. Lydia went to fetch some cloths and some more water to wipe the blood off his wounds. She carefully removed the clothes that were tied around Derek’s chest, stomach and shoulders. The wounds were still raw and open and some blood was seeping out, she wiped it away with a damp cloth. In contrast to the violent red of his blood, Derek’s skin had no colour left; the warmth had been sucked out and it had left him pale and hollow. 

“Derek, these aren’t healing,” she said, “I think I need to call Scott.” She reached for her handbag resting on the bed next to Derek; he put his hand over hers.

“Don’t,” he said, “He can’t help.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“It’s not the wounds… It’s me,” he said.

“Somatoformic,” she said thinking back to when Scott was pressed up against the bathroom wall bleeding black and unconscious and Allison was stitching his wounds up. 

“Is that a word?” he groaned.

“Actually, you know, I don’t think it is,” Lydia pondered it for a second before the gravity of the situation hit her suddenly, “Oh… You’re not going to heal. This is not good.” Lydia realised her mistake in saying that a second later – Derek needs to believe that he is healing, that’s what tricked Scott’s body into healing last time, and now Derek knows, without a doubt, that his body is most definitely not healing. 

“Actually never mind, you’re going to be fine, Derek. This happened to Scott, and Allison just stitched him up and then he was fine,” Lydia said.

“It’s okay, I know it won’t heal, it’s my own fault, I should have been there,” he said softly.

“Where?” she asked touching his forehead gently to feel his fever rising.

“To save her... I wasn’t there,” he muttered closing his eyes. She grasped his chin weakly and turned his head toward her.

“Do not fall asleep on me. Is this about Allison?” she asked. 

“It should have been different, I should have saved her, it’s my fault,” he said. Lydia frowned in momentary confusion and anger as she processed what he said. She swallowed hard experiencing a rush of unexpected emotion.

“She was my friend, she was there to save me. I told her to stay away, I knew it was going to happen and I couldn’t stop it. How dare you act like you failed her? I should have saved her; not you. Allison was my best friend; you didn’t even know her,” she said.  
“I loved her, it was my fault,” he said.

“You loved… Allison?” she asked.

“Paige... I loved Paige,” he said. Lydia suddenly realised that the wounds were causing delusions or hallucinations and she didn’t think he was even aware of the conversation they were having. She wasn’t sure exactly what was arresting his healing, but she realised, just from the nuances of his voice, that he is burdened with more guilt than any other person she’s ever met, and, even if his wounds heal today, he will be haunted by these scars for the rest of his life. 

She wiped the sweat off his forehead and listened as his breathing became increasingly strenuous. The blood seeping through the bandaged wounds was darker now, almost black. Lydia’s thoughts raced; she knew, deep inside her, that Derek was slipping away and that no-one else was going to burst in and rescue her from the responsibility of saving his life. She also knew that she was capable of saving him herself. After a moment of silence, Lydia finally spoke.

“I forgive you for Paige, for Allison, for being willing to kill me,” she said, “I forgive all of it even if you can’t forgive yourself.” 

“I don’t deserve it,” he said.

“It’s not about deserving it, forgiveness is a gift, and I am choosing to give it to you,” she said. 

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said softly. She rested her hand upon his cheek and he leaned towards it. She didn’t need to ask what he meant - his life has been disappointment and heartache piled on and on until it was almost unbearable – it didn’t really matter what he meant; she understood because she felt the same. 

“Shush, I know, I’ve got you, you’re okay,” she said taking his hand with her other hand and stroking it gently with her thumb. After a while, his wounds stopped bleeding, the heat had seeped back into his cheeks and he looked flushed with life. Lydia methodically cleaned the blood off and let the wounds heal slowly. She ran her fingers through his hair absentmindedly and he opened his eyes.

“Lydia,” he said breathlessly. 

“I’m here,” she said looking down at the man that almost slipped through her fingers to a place she only heard echoes from, “so are you.”

“I guess I should say thanks,” he said it like a question.

“Yes, you should,” Lydia said.

“It’s not every day a beautiful woman saves my life. A guy could get used to it though,” he said thoughtfully.

“You know, next time, I think I’ll leave you with Stiles,” she said.


End file.
